Clap Your Hands
by Libek
Summary: They have been lieutenants for the same amount of time, but their experiences so far are very different. Kira/Hinamori, Gin/Kira if you squint.


"Did you hear the news?"

Izuru almost stumbled at the sound of her voice, spun to face her without thinking, and all of the papers he had spent the whole afternoon meticulously organizing slipped through numb fingers and slid softly to the polished floor. He flushed and dropped to his knees to retrieve them, not quite looking at her. "Hi... Hinamori-kun," he said. Then, more responsively, "What news?"

He tried not to add, Why are you here? What would ever make you come here?

It was the first time he had seen her in months, and he wasn't even sure that glimpse of her flowing robes and flashing zanpakutou really counted. Coincidentally the Third and Fifth Divisions had worked in tandem to subdue a particularly nasty Hollow; it wasn't exactly a noted social venue. She had barely said two words to him then.

And now, here she was, wandering the halls of the Third Division's barracks, looking flushed and excited and -- really very pretty. She had her hair up, she always had her hair up these days, and he liked it, thought it made her look like a regal young lady, but he hadn't had the chance to tell her so when she first started fifteen years ago, and it would have been a little awkward to say now.

Many things would have been a little awkward to say, after so many years. And Izuru was so used to biting his tongue that he hardly felt the sting of teeth anymore.

If she noticed his sudden distance, she did not let it bother her. "It's Abarai-kun," she told him breathlessly, and her eyes were shining. "They're going to promote him!"

"Oh," he said. "That's wonderful. What division?"

Because everyone knew the way things worked in the Eleventh Division. Abarai-kun couldn't have been promoted there, not in any real way. Ayasegawa-kun and Madarame-kun and Lieutenant Kusajishi formed an impenetrable wall. If Abarai-kun had somehow managed to unseat one of them, well, everyone would have heard about it long before the promotion had time to become official. There would have been a lot of yelling, just to start.

Hinamori-kun looked both ways, then folded her hands behind her back and leaned in as if to share a secret. She was close enough to touch. "_The Sixth_, silly. Where else?"

"Oh," he said again. No wonder she had come to tell him in person. He pulled the rest of the paperwork to his chest and straightened quickly, away from her and the strangely-dull thud of his heart. "Well, we have to go congratulate him, of course. What seat?"

She beamed at him, so beautiful. "That's the best part, Kira-kun. He's going to be a lieutenant, just like us!"

_Just like you, or just like me?_

"That's wonderful." Izuru wondered why he was repeating himself so often, and turned away from her, thinking vaguely that he had to do something with the papers but not sure quite what. He couldn't remember what all they were for, where he had been heading with them. To his chagrin, Hinamori-kun fell in step beside him, and then he was forced to head back to his office, where he could at least store them temporarily.

The silence was slightly awkward.

"Wow," he said into it. "A lieutenant."

"I know," she agreed with feeling, so obviously _happy_, the smile broad on her face, and he felt something unpleasant twist in his belly. "I can't wait to see his expression. When Captain Aizen told me, I could hardly believe it... And we get to tell him!"

As disconnected as he felt, Izuru still frowned. That didn't seem quite right. "We do?"

She nodded rapidly. "I know, it should be the newest lieutenants, but Captain Aizen gave us special dispensation." Isn't he wonderful, danced over the end of her sentence unspoken.

Wonderful, yes. Did they have special dispensation to take over the other 'privileges', too? Would they now be expected to help their new colleague settle into his duties, and answer any questions he might have, and all the rest of it? He wouldn't have known what to say. They hadn't become lieutenants so very long ago themselves, but it felt like ages, decades, centuries, the hours and days and minutes and seconds weighing down on his bones--

But she wouldn't feel the same way, would probably have looked at him strangely, so all he said was, "One step closer to Kuchiki-san."

"Yes..." She let that trail off, soft and hopeful and gentle. "Do you think he'll ever reach her? Really reach her, I mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders, feeling tense and maybe more than that. They would be equals again, socially, but more than mere rank stood between them. Forty years was... such a long time. People changed. Abarai-kun had changed, and Kuchiki-san would have changed, too. What if she was no longer even the person he had been in love with?

Still. "I wish him good luck." And that much, Izuru could at least say with sincerity.

Another silence fell, but less uncomfortable than before. She was the one to break it this time.

"Where do you think we should go afterwards?"

"Afterwards?"

The look Hinamori gave him was pure, affectionate exasperation. "After we tell Abarai-kun about his promotion. We'll have to celebrate, won't we? I was thinking maybe we could take him out to dinner someplace, or, well... Madarame-san and Iba-san will probably want to come with... And they'll want to go to a bar, I bet."

She said it as though Abarai-kun wouldn't have wanted to go to a bar himself, but he did not try to correct her. It wasn't as if he saw much more of Abarai-kun these days than he saw of her, so maybe he didn't drink the way he had fifteen years ago. The thought made Izuru feel very tired, and very old.

"Whatever you think would be best," he told her.

They had been at the bar for more than two hours, wedged into a booth in the corner, before he really began to wish he had said something else.

Alcohol was not one of his special skills. He had never built up the same tolerance Abarai-kun had, and so as he and Madarame-kun and Iba-kun tossed back shots and pitchers and whatever else they could get their hands on, he nursed a single mug of pale beer and tried not to call much attention to it. Fortunately, one of the side-effects of drinking much more than him was that the other three men were rapidly losing the ability to effectively mock him for not joining them in their binge.

"Why doncha get an'ther one?" Madarame-kun asked for roughly the tenth time, slinging an arm around his shoulder and breathing on his face. "Doncha wanna get good an' drunk with the res' of us?"

"Kira ain't really much for drinkin'," Abarai-kun said, in what was probably supposed to be a defense. It was really pretty nice of him, only then he had to add, "He's too much of a wimp," which somewhat ruined the effect.

If Madarame-kun was not especially convinced, he did at least retrieve his arm to point emphatically at the other man. "We shoul' change tha'. No room for wimps in the Eleve'th Division."

"Kira-kun isn't _in_ the Eleventh Division," Hinamori-kun said with a giggle. She had hardly touched her own banana daiquiri, but her eyes were bright and her hand terribly warm when she settled it firmly over his own. "Don't listen to them, Kira-kun," she told him in a very audible whisper. "It's much more fun to watch _other_ people get drunk than it is to get drunk yourself. For one thing, there's no hangover."

That made Iba-kun roar with laughter, demanding to know when she had ever been drunk enough to say a thing like that, and when she admitted that she had gone out drinking once with Matsumoto-san -- but _only_ once -- everyone else burst out laughing, too. They were very loud, Izuru thought, all of them, and his sense of disconnection only increased. How strange that the rest of the bar could be unpleasant, desolate and darkly-lit this time of day, the sour smell of someone else's vomit not too far from where they sat, when the mood in their corner was so different. Generous, and good-natured even as it threatened to deafen him, but more than anything else--

--friendly, he realized. He almost hadn't recognized it, the idea was too surreal. To be friends, _real friends_, with the other members of your division. Was that just one of the differences between being a lowly sixth-seat officer and being a lieutenant? Or was it a difference between divisions?

Had Abarai-kun given any thought to that? Did he know what the Sixth Division was like, what being its lieutenant was like? Was he so focused on Kuchiki-san that he wouldn't have cared either way?

He stole a glimpse of the other man's face, fiercely pleased but not quite happy, and he wanted so badly to ask him. _What if she rejects you, Abarai-kun? What if she rejects you and then you're stuck there, do you know how difficult it is to transfer from one division to another when you aren't seeking a promotion?_ But everyone else was so excited, and for some reason Hinamori-kun had not withdrawn her hand from where it covered his own, and he was there sandwiched between them. Trapped by her warmth and their friendship. He would only ruin the mood, and then she would stare, they would all stare.

So he said nothing.

"Another drink," Madarame-kun was cheering, "for a' the lieuten'nts in t' room t'night." He tried to take a sip of his own, but Iba-kun stilled his hand and pointed out that he wasn't a lieutenant, was he, so what did he think he was doing drinking to them, and that too made all the others laugh. "I'm close 'nough!" Madarame-kun objected, and tried to stand up dramatically. It didn't work very well, so he set his glass down and spilled it dramatically instead. "I'd _be_ a lieuten'nt if it wasn' fer her!"

"Ah," Iba-kun said sagely, "but would you really? I bet tha' friend o' yers thinks two is a _really_ ugly number."

Izuru promptly excused himself. The spill had been a small one, but it still seemed as though napkins were in order, and if he stood up, then Hinamori-kun would have to stand up. She might opt to come with him, and spare them both what he knew would have been Madarame-kun's extremely impolite response.

In fact, with Madarame-kun's current level of inebriation, their interruption might well have prevented his response entirely; as they walked away from the booth, he thought he heard the other man asking Iba-kun to repeat his last comment, and Iba-kun admitting in a slur that he couldn't really remember what they'd been talking about. Alcohol was like that.

"The Eleventh Division..." Hinamori-kun leaned against the condiments table while he pulled napkins from a dispenser. "They're really something, aren't they?" He made a noise of vague agreement, which she seemed to find encouraging, because she continued, "Nothing like the Fifth Division, but it suits Abarai-kun, doesn't it?"

The words, her tone, were very nostalgic. Once, years and years ago, she had asked him what he thought of his division. The flush in her cheeks then had been excitement for herself, excitement for the both of them, but she had started the conversation almost exactly like this. It made his palms slick with sweat, made him fumble with the napkins and pull out great handfuls they would never need. He couldn't remember what he had told her before, couldn't remember what he had thought of it before, but he had been younger then, and new. His captain--

She was opening her mouth to ask, so he cut her off quickly. "I think anything would suit Abarai-kun. He's the kind of person who makes friends easily, wherever he goes."

"Yes, that's true," she admitted, but he could feel her eyes on him, her curiosity. Her brief hesitation before she said, "You're the same, aren't you, Kira-kun?"

It was such a strange thing to hear about himself that he almost laughed. Was he really? Izuru thought maybe he had been, once. When she had known him better. But that seemed like such a cruel thing to say that he only murmured, "I suppose you're right. Even if it feels egotistical to agree with something like that when it's about myself."

To his surprise, she giggled. "You used to say, 'It's not egotistical if it's true.'"

I used to say a lot of things, he almost snapped, and then felt sick inside. Her sudden presence in his division's building had made him almost resentful -- confused, nervous, but mostly hurt because he couldn't remember her having ever come by to see him before. But that hadn't been very fair of him, had it. After all, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to see her, either.

He liked her, loved her, ached quietly sometimes to be with her, but he hadn't... really _wanted_ to see her. Perhaps on some level he had known it would make him feel this way, that just the sight of her would be enough to remind him of all the things he had worked so hard to forget.

They were lieutenants. They should have been exalted. Abarai-kun had worked long and hard to join them, and once they would have teased him for it together. Once he would have been so proud of himself, so pleased to know that he was making his _parents_ proud, living up to their memory and their legacy. These days...

These days, he just did what he was told, and tried to keep his head down.

"Kira-kun?"

He made himself look at her, made himself say calmly, "We should get back to the table." It wasn't easy.

Hinamori-kun met his eyes, bit her lower lip, and nodded. But as she turned away, she asked him, "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He hadn't meant to sound quite so defensive, and flinched inside, but let the words lie there between them anyway. Wouldn't it be better, really, if he _did_ hurt her feelings? If she realized that they were no longer the close friends they had been? Would she miss him, would she even really mind...

There was a long silence, and at first he thought he might have been successful, that she would drop the subject now and never speak to him again, but he should have known better. "That wasn't a yes."

She had stopped walking, and before he could blink she was spinning on her heel, catching hold of his arm with a speed that surprised him. Her fingers where they dug into his forearm were amazingly strong, so strong that he half expected the skin to split, crinkle and fall away like brittle leaves in autumn. A voice in his mind whispered that if she had gone for his shoulder instead, curled her fingers in and _squeezed_, wouldn't her small hand have felt so much like--

"I'm fine," Izuru told her. "We should get back to the table."

If anything, she only tightened her grip. "Kira-kun, you're _not_ fine. You know you're not. We came here to celebrate, to have fun, and everyone else is having fun -- everyone else is laughing, everyone else is _happy_ for Abarai-kun, but you're not happy at all. This whole night, you haven't so much as cracked a smile."

He struggled not to twist away from her, the suppressed movement a hard jerk in his shoulders, and clenched his fists to keep them from reaching up to trace the seam of his mouth and make sure. No, he hadn't smiled. He didn't smile much at all anymore. How could he, when every time he tried he found himself wondering if that smile wouldn't be someone else's, spreading horribly over his face?

But she wouldn't feel the same way. Would probably have looked at him strangely.

If her captain had come to _her_ door in the middle of the night and asked her to take a walk with him, she would have followed and followed gladly. She wouldn't have flinched away from his hand when he extended it, feeling sick with something she couldn't even name. She would never have been afraid to let herself smile. Her eyes were still so wide, so soft and brown and full of light. She was still happy.

No, she wouldn't understand. And Izuru wasn't even sure he wanted her to.

So he forced the smile onto his lips, and tried not to think about what it looked like there. So he repeated himself again, and again, and again. "I'm fine. Just a little -- tired, you know? There's been a lot of work this last month, and I'm behind right now. I left it for the night to come here, and I guess I'm just having trouble concentrating on Abarai-kun's promotion with all that paperwork still sitting on my desk." He paused, hitched the smile up an inch ruefully. "You know how that is, don't you?"

"I..." She seemed to deflate, even the edge of her reiatsu softening with palpable relief. "Yes, of course I do. I'm sorry, that's what you were in the middle of when I found you in the halls, isn't it? I completely forgot. It never even occurred to me that those papers might have been important, that makes so much sense. I probably wouldn't be smiling a whole lot, either." She beamed at him, as if to make a liar out of herself, and he had to look away. The light was blinding. "Now I feel silly. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that."

There was no real need for him to respond. He had already said more than enough, and the only thing he had to do now was keep smiling. Smile through the pain, smile even though it was so tight and strained that it hurt his cheeks, and never let it so much as waver until they were both back in their booth, safely wedged in once more. The shadows were deeper there, and Abarai-kun's friends were very loudly distracting, and no one would notice if he never smiled again.

Hinamori-kun had said she was jumping to conclusions, but she hadn't been. She hadn't said anything that wasn't true. It was just so much easier -- so much nicer -- to believe he was fine. Later, when it was time for the two of them to go back to their separate lives on opposite ends of Seireitei, she would probably have forgotten all about her moment of concern, the memory washed away by silly drinking games and more raucous laughter.

And when the morning came, he would go into his office early, drown himself in that stack of disorganized paperwork, and try desperately to do the same. His arm was going to bruise where she had tried so fiercely to hold onto him, and of course that might make the paperwork difficult, but he thought he would hardly feel the sting with so many others all over the rest of him.


End file.
